Seven Hundred Years
by DragonflyonBreak
Summary: Its been seven hundred years since Arthur's death on the shores of Avalon and Merlin is finally reaching the end of his rope... a visit to an old, crumbling castle and an unexpected conversation helps get him back on his feet for the years still ahead of him. Takes place after Season 5.


**A/N **To be honest, I'm rather hesitant about sharing this - I've had it on my computer for so long I just don't know if it is any good anymore. But, I've put too much time into it to _not _share it with you guys so... here you are. Please don't hate it. *crosses fingers and ducks behind the couch*

Seven Hundred Years

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The castle was ancient.

If it could be even be called a castle anymore. It was mostly a shell - half a shell even. The east and south wings had collapsed long ago, the two enormous sides nothing but stones and ruins now. And the remaining walls and recognizable parts of the castle that still stood proudly didn't have long before they eventually followed. Time and the elements had slowly destroyed it. He was certain that the only reason it had lasted as long as it had was because of the faint but slowly fading remnants of the powerful protective magic that still somehow clung to its walls.

The sun was shining brightly above him, bearing down hotly on his back as he walked slowly through what had once been a grand courtyard built for hundreds of people... its cobblestone walk had broken apart centuries ago and now what had once been a grand site to see was nothing more than grass, weeds and a whole lot of dirt.

But despite the plant life that had slowly grown in over the years, everything here was unnaturally and _painfully_ quiet. There were no signs of wildlife - no birds perched or sang their songs here, deer and rodents couldn't be found in the woods and even the wind was subdued and quiet. Nothing ventured this way anymore- nothing had for a very long time and he doubted anything ever would again.

This place was one of the only things that was older than even he was, with the exception of the earth itself. It was a reminder of a past that was slowly falling to myth and legend. It was ancient and foreboding and came from a time that no one wanted to remember except in children's stories.

People, he found, were just afraid of the truth that could be found in places like this.

He wandered through a break in the old wall - a hole about the width of three full grown men standing side by side - and found himself on the first floor of the castle in what, after a quick look around, could have once been a large dining hall, though there was no table or anything to truly know for sure. It was well lighted from the rays of the sun shining through the broken wall and shattered windows, but it had a heaviness to it that made it seem dark and rather eerie.

Most people, had they even dared to venture inside, would have immediately turned around and fled as fast as they could. But his footsteps echoed loudly around him as he continued on his way, unconcerned and unafraid of moving forward.

He ran a hand lightly against the cracked stones on the walls as he wandered through the remaining halls and crumbling corridors of the once awe-inspiring castle, occasionally having to climb over fallen rubble. Plants grew in from the sides and broken parts of the ceiling, a stark contrast against the dull gray stone. Eventually, he made a turn and headed up a small intact staircase to the second floor.

There was no thought put into where he was going, his feet simply lead the way, acting of their own accord. He slowly wandered in and out of all the rooms, his heart aching longingly for the time when the castle would have been bustling and alive - for the achingly familiar life he had once had and longed to return too.

But that could never be. He knew it better than anyone.

That time of the world was over and he was older and farther away from it then he ever could have imagined being. And while his appearance was still appeared young and strong... he felt his true age more and more with every passing day. It weighed heavily on his mind and dampened his exhausted spirit beyond all endurance.

He was tired and that was all there was to it. Tired and worn and stretched beyond his limits and no amount of rest could cure him of it.

He had no one. He was alone and that was how he preferred to be. He preferred his solitude to the knowledge that everyone he met and grew close to would eventually die and that he'd have to continue on without them.

He'd become a vagabond and simply wandered from place to place as he pleased... But why he had come to _this_ place, was a mystery to him. He had resisted the need to come at first, for there was truly no reason to be here - he had only been to this place once before, after all. But the _need_ had simply become stronger and stronger over the past weeks, to the point where it was all that was on his mind, and he finally caved.

But there had been no grand feeling of understanding when the castle had finally come into his sight, even after walking the several miles from where his transportation spell had left him. He had no idea what was calling him here - he only knew that he had to come.

The question of _why _was pushed aside when he came across the skeleton of a large lizard of some kind in the doorway of one of the rooms. And for a reason he could no longer remember... it seemed familiar to him. And he decided, after studying it for a long moment, that it must have had something to do with the last time he visited this place. He was completely positive that whatever it was, it didn't exist anymore.

After staring at it for a while longer he quietly turned and heading up another nearby flight of stairs to the third floor.

He wandered aimlessly through the barren halls for a long time, occasionally having to dodge broken parts of the floor, before his feet suddenly came to a stop and he found himself standing in the doorway of a very grand and spacious room. It was the least damaged of all the castle that he had seen yet. A few of the windows _still_ had glass in them and the walls were hardly cracked at all. Light streamed in freely, dancing across the dusty floors as though mimicking the life that had once existed here. A big fireplace and several statues stood by the windows, in almost perfect condition.

And the chair. It caught his eye almost immediately. That chair that _still_ stood upright and proud, untouched by the time and years that had slowly passed around it.

_The Fisher King's chair. _

It had been centuries since he'd first seen it on his first and only visit to the... Perilous Lands... yes... yes that had been the name. Though it hadn't been called that for many, many years now. The name itself had slipped out of existence as the curse that had once been over the land finally lifted and life slowly began its return to the fields.

And it had been _so_ long ago... he could hardly even remember it now... There was nothing but vague shadows and tiny fragments of his memory left from those early years.

He knew he'd come here to help Arthur - to make sure he was safe... from something. And someone... someone had come with him... but he couldn't recall who it had been anymore. A friend... a knight perhaps, he didn't know. The details of his trip and the faces and sounds of his friends voices had long since faded from his mind.

But he _did_ remember the Fisher King.

Not what he looked liked or his voice or even anything that had been said to him in that one conversation they had had... but just as the ancient and powerful sorcerer from a time long since forgotten. A man who had also been doomed to live on for centuries, waiting and watching as everything he loved had fallen to ruin and faded from the land until nothing was left of it.

The Fisher King had longed for death.

He hadn't understood that at the time.

After a moment of brief hesitation, he walked into the room until he came to stand directly in front of the old chair. His footsteps were loud and echoing and he was suddenly painfully aware of how alone he really was.

With a reverent but shaking hand, he reached out and softly brushed off the layers of dust and cobwebs on one of the arms that had accumulated over the years... it was all the evidence he needed to prove that _no one _had been here in a very long time.

Quite suddenly, he was blinking away tears that began to form in his eyes.

He hadn't understood the suffering the king had endured the last time he stood here. He hadn't understood the king's desire to _die_, to finally be able to rest and leave this world... because he had believed life was always the better choice.

He vaguely remembered that he had felt sad at the Fisher King's passing.

_But he understood now. _He thought silently as the tears he had feebly tried to hold back began streaming down his face and as he began to tremble from the overwhelming waves of emotion that he had kept locked away overcame him and forced him down to his knees. He kneeled in front of the chair in utter despair and let out a quiet sob.

He understood now that death had been a welcome friend. That what he had done for the Fisher King was a kindness and a mercy . One, he was sure, that he himself would never know.

For seven centuries, he had walked this earth and seen all it had to offer and all that it had to take away.

He had watched as each and every one of his friends eventually died, until no one he loved was left. His mother, the physician, the last members of the Round Table... and the dragons. Both Kilgarrah _and_ Aithusa had abandoned him lifetimes ago. He had witnessed the fall of the great kingdoms, Camelot's included. He was forced to go on as his memory faded and he eventually forgot the things that once meant everything to him. Magic became a forgotten art and most magical creatures became extinct...

He'd seen wars and plagues and the evils of men - he'd seen their goodness as well, there was no denying that. He had long ago learned that good things always seemed to endure, though as time continued on it became harder and harder for him to see. The world became blacker and crueler as he lived on through the ages alone and forgotten by everyone.

The Fisher King had had to wait hundreds of years so that he could help _him_.

And now he was forced to wait too, much like the old king had... waiting and hoping that one day Arthur would return.

_This_ was his curse... immortality was his punishment - his penance for failing to protect Arthur.

_He understood now. _

And he longed for death just as much as the ancient king once had. Oh, how he _longed_ for that eternal rest that he could not have in this world - he wanted to join his loved ones in Avalon... he wanted to see them again and _remember _them.

_And perhaps that was why he had come here. _He thought distantly, squeezing his watery eyes shut in despair. Painful sobs wracked his body anyways and he wrapped his arms tightly around his stomach and bowed his head over until his black hair almost touched the dusty floor, trying to hold back the pain.

Maybe that was what he had hoped to find here - somebody waiting for _him_ - the Fisher King, perhaps. The only other person in existence who would have understood what he was going through, waiting to offer him the same end that Merlin had once given him.

_But he wasn't here. No one was! _

"Please... _please..._." He sobbed, his voice sounding worn out and broken even to him. "I j-just... I _can't - _I... I can't do _anymore... please._"

He waited desperately hoping for anything. His breathing was harsh and ragged, but there was no answer.

And there never would be.

Suddenly, it was as if a great dam broke inside him.

He braced his hands against the floor in front of him and just sobbed and sobbed. He cried out all his pain and anger and loneliness to whoever was listening - he cursed and swore and begged, punching the floor in front of him in anger when nothing became of it, except the distinct sound of cracking stone.

It wasn't fair! He had tried - he had _tried so very hard!_ How long did he have to suffer for? Why - why had everyone _left_ him...? Why, oh _why _did he have to be alone? What did he have to do! Why couldn't it just end?

He just wanted it to end...

"Arthur... _please - _I-I'm so sorry." He gasped, grabbing and clutching at his hair as he drew in ragged and uneven breaths, hyperventilating. It was the first time he'd spoken Arthur's name in a _very_ long time and he started to sob even harder at the despair and loneliness that tore holes in his heart all over again at the realization. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." He cried. "I don't... I just don't know w-what to do..."

He trailed off, hoping beyond hope that there might be an answer but knowing in his heart that there wouldn't be. The room was still and silent and he was alone.

Tears and snot continued to stream from his eyes and nose and he came to the realization that it _wasn't_ really the Fisher King that he had wanted to see here - he'd been hoping, however irrational it was, that Arthur would be here and he hadn't even realized it.

But he wasn't. Arthur was gone just like everybody else was. He had left him and forgotten about him and he was _never_ coming back.

He was alone, just as he always had been and always would be and the thought made him cry harder.

He didn't know how long he knelt there for - it could have been minutes or hours, even a lifetime - he didn't know and he couldn't bring himself to even care. But finally he shuddered, feeling stretched and empty and hollow inside, with no more tears left to cry.

Scrubbing weakly at his eyes, he started taking deep, raggedy breaths in an attempt to calm himself down and after a couple of minutes, his breathing was somewhat even.

He blinked tiredly and looked out one of the shattered windows and saw that the sun had begun to set outside.

It had been early in the day when he'd first arrived, not even noon yet...

_But he didn't care he didn't care he didn't care. Nothing mattered. Nothing would ever matter._

It was _stupid_ of him to come here...

He wanted to leave - there was nothing for him here and never would be.

And he had_ known_ that before he'd come here! There was a reason he avoided being within a hundred miles of where Camelot had once stood.

He had bought most of Camelot's lands after the kingdom had fallen with the intent of giving it all back to Arthur when he returned. But time went on and Arthur just never came back... and eventually everything just became a sharp, painful reminder of the past and of a future that wouldn't come.

It was just as he stood up to leave, when he felt it. His magic lit up like a fire inside him and his hair stood up on the back of his neck as the very air around him suddenly shifted with an unexplainable power that filled the entire room - the room was _alive, _like it had been set ablaze or electrified with something that could not be put into words... It was light and peaceful and even though he didn't understand it, he _knew _that he wasn't in any danger. Any thoughts of leaving instantly vanished - _he didn't want to leave this _- and instead of leaving, he slowly turned and re-situated himself back against the side of the king's chair, allowing his exhausted self to slowly relax in the comforting feeling of it all.

He'd never felt anything like this in all his long years - the power that he felt was far greater than his - his being _nothing_ in comparison. This was different and beautiful and vast and completely perfect.

He felt at peace. The room... it almost seemed to sing with feelings of joy and love and comfort that went beyond anything a mortal being could offer.

His red-rimmed eyes squinted when the room brightened for a fraction of a moment before dimming down once again and he barely had time to react to the change in the room when his magic stirred once again in response to it... no. To _someone. _

_Someone was here. _

"Merlin."

He froze, hardly daring to breathe.

_That... was impossible. But... he knew that voice. He knew it! Oh, he knew it and how could he have ever forgotten it?_

He spun, leaping to his feet and stumbling backwards a few steps away from where he had previously sat and _stared_.

It was Arthur.

* * *

**A/N **Teeheeheee. Cliffhanger. This is only half of what I have written - I decided to split this in two since it was getting rather long and harder to connect certain scenes. XP The next part isn't quite complete yet... the ending is being a serious butt - however, with any luck and if my school schedule allows it, it will be finished in a few weeks.

This is NOT Arthur's return - more of an intermission sort of thing. It'll be explained later. :)

On another subject, Merlin doesn't remember a lot of things from the past - he's not senile, but he's just forgotten. I mean, I can't remember things I did last week. I can't imagine being able to remember _everything _for seven hundred years. I mean, every tiny detail? That's just ridiculous.

He did mention/think the dragon's names and the reason for that is that they were bonded to him, his soul was linked to theirs and theirs to his. Being kin, soul family, so closely linked to each other, their death and absence from his mind is not something he can ever truly forget.

Aithusa is dead because of the state he had been in during season five. He was not a healthy dragon. He was deformed and injured and sick. His injuries were not something Merlin could heal, not that he ever freaking tried to make contact with the dragon AFTER he found out he'd been with Morgana (idiot), and after Kilgarrah died, Aithusa was officially alone. Young, injured and alone = BAD COMBO. He probably stuck around with Merlin for a few years after everything fell apart, but he didn't live very long. :/

A complete explanation of all my thoughts, clarification of certain things and where this idea came from will be included in the next and final chapter.

I hope you enjoyed it and please let me know in a review! It would be much appreciated.

DragonflyonBreak


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